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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28582623">Millicent's Tale</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millicent/pseuds/Millicent'>Millicent</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:34:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,704</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28582623</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millicent/pseuds/Millicent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Millicent was destined to live a full life with her mother, sisters and father in the cattery.</p><p>One day, persuasion in the form of a giant wearing a cape would cause her fate to shift.  Home would never be so close, or so far away, again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Armitage Hux/Reader, Kylo Ren/Rey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Well Met</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElegyGoldsmith/gifts">ElegyGoldsmith</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>My life started out simply. I was born here in the cattery, with my mother and father and Auntie Trouble and all my brothers and half-brothers and sisters and half-sisters. When we were old enough, people would come to visit under the veranda in the cat garden. They would fawn over the sibling kittens and bring them toys. Some of the siblings fell in love with the visitors and would fall asleep on their feet or in their laps. Eventually, most of them left to live in the visitors’ houses.</p><p>Not me.</p><p>I never needed to entertain strangers. I got free run of the garden when visitors came. Cat Food Lady announced the day I was born that I was destined to remain here. She says that I’m close as a cat can come to her breeding goal for a Maine Coon Polydactyl. She may be right, for I’m a bright, orangey-red, ticked tabby with “nice” type (she wouldn’t ever claim that a cat she bred herself had excellent type, or even good type, for that matter) and I have eight toes more than an average cat. Cat Food Lady says being a polydactyl is the closest a cat can come to Force sensitivity that sometimes occurs in humans.</p><p>I'll never know if she’s right about that, but my place in the cattery was guaranteed. I was never for sale.</p><p>My adventure began early on a sunny afternoon in October. A red-haired man in a well-ironed uniform appeared at our door and spoke in clipped, decisive tones with Cat Food Lady. He said he’d seen pictures of me on the holonet, and added something about matching and special. I couldn’t fail to notice that when the sun struck the man’s hair it was precisely the color of my fur! The red-haired man watched me race through the garden and his tone grew strident. Cat Food Lady replied in firm tones that credits were not the issue.</p><p>“Not only is she not for sale, but Maine Coons aren’t meant to live alone in an officer’s quarters on a spaceship. Cats in her line have been bred for tens of generations specifically for their value as companion animals.” He grumbled something back, and she replied, “Mouse droids do not qualify as worthwhile companionship for a kitten. There is no way for you to provide her enough attention with your working hours, and you don’t have room for another cat to help you keep her company.” She then gave him a lengthy lecture about the history of Maine Coons, bored the poor man to tears, and sent him on his way, saying, “I’m flattered you like her, but I’m sorry, General. The answer is no.”</p><p>A few hours later, the red-haired man returned. This time, he was accompanied by a tall man dressed in black whose long, somber face wore a scar that started above his eyebrow, ran over his cheek, and raced down his neck only to plunge under the high collar of his thick tunic. My breath caught a bit. He must have been in a sorcerer-level cat fight to have achieved such a mark of manhood! He radiated some sort of dark life force that made my fur want to stand on end. I wasn't certain if I should purr or stop breathing altogether.<br/>
As if the scar and the weird aura weren't exciting enough, the dark man was wearing a cape—a genuine, hypnotically swishing, floor-length, black cape. I may never have been much for visitors, but that cape captured my attention like a bird on the wing. My instinctual hindbrain was enthralled. I wanted to climb that cape like a tree.</p><p>The dark man’s feet were large and his baritone voice was smooth. He stomped heavily towards the Cat Food Lady, hovering over her like a giant dragon. It had never occurred to me before how small she is. He waved his right hand slowly before her face as he spoke. She then repeated nearly verbatim the words he had said: “I will let General Hux have the kitten. Hux promises that he will treat her well. If for any reason he can no longer care for her, she will be returned.” The red-haired man wasted no time. Within seconds, I was popped into a cat carrier and whisked away into a fancy Upsilon shuttle that bore amazing resemblance to a bat.</p><p>
  <em>(Note to future self: life goals include capturing a real bat as prey. Not only would it serve as a worthy death for the fellow mammal, but it would prove my skill as a huntress, demonstrating my worthiness for Biological Imperative.)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It’s a crying shame that I only ever got to ride in that shuttle once, and I wish now that I had paid it more attention. What I do remember about the shuttle ride was my frustration that I was stuck in the carrier with no opportunity to climb the dark man’s cape. I watched in fascination as the cape sashayed over the floor every time he moved. Surely, that cape was more alluring than curtains.</p><p>It didn’t take long before sleep took me and I awakened just as the shuttle was docking. We had arrived inside the hangar of my new home, the Steadfast. The hangar was busy, full of people in shiny white armor who were loading and unloading all sorts of ships. As the two men disembarked from the shuttle, I peeked through the front of the cat carrier and saw for the first time the white-spotted blackness of space through the gaping hangar entrance. I started to tremble as a couple of TIE fighters whooshed loudly out into the nothingness. What sort of a home would this be?</p><p>The red-haired man swung around, tilting me in the cat carrier. He stood stiffly before the man in black, saying, “I suppose I owe you a thank-you, Ren.”<br/>
I heard the man in the cape sigh heavily before he returned, “That’s Supreme Leader to you, Hux.” A corner of his mouth twitched and his left eyebrow lowered as if he was trying not to smile. “You’re welcome, though. I hope you enjoy your new pu … kitty.”<br/>
“That’s Millicent, to you, Ren,” hissed he red-haired man. “Don’t forget, you promised that obstreperous breeder lady to help cat-sit so that Millicent gets enough attention. I shall set up a schedule, so you don't forget.”</p><p>With that, the red-haired man stalked off into the hallways, leading Maker knows where as I watched in awe through the grid of the carrier. We passed individual men and women in dark uniforms but also groups of people wearing the shiny white armor who were marching in rows. Every single person stopped and saluted the red-haired man upon sighting him. This caused him to stop, set me on the floor, and salute them back. Cats know the language of movement. Life in the cattery ensured me of this: the man wearing the cape might be higher in dominance to the red-haired man, but the red-haired man ranked higher than every other living creature on this ship. Not a single individual dared to ask him about his strangely packaged, miauwing burden, either. Importance, dominance and hierarchy, those are things we understand.</p><p>From space, a Star Destroyer resembles a triangular toy. Once inside, the ship is the size of a large city. Our walk, with its continuous halting, seemed to last an eternity. At long last, the red-haired man slowed before a door and he swung the carrier box from his right to his left hand, tilting my life (rude!) before he placing the freed right hand on a circle near the door.  The door whooshed open. Light slowly appeared around us as we passed from the entrance hall into the large, square room. The walls were dark grey, the dark grey stone floor was shiny and all the furniture black. Here and there about the room were orangey-red accents: a pillow, a picture frame, a folded blanket over the arm of an uncomfortable looking, black sofa.<br/>
The red-haired man placed the cat carrier on top of the only table, which was fixed to the wall. The man leaned over the table towards the box and opened the door to the carrier. “Prrrt?” I inquired.</p><p>“You can come out now, dear,” he said. I sniffed the air, swiveled my ears like radar a time or two, and decided to test the exit. I placed my left front paw on the cold durasteel tabletop and peeked out into the room. The man’s head was intimately close, and I watched as his eyes fixated on my toes. My boldness led to near social ruin: I accidentally looked up straight into the bluest eyes that have ever graced the galaxy. My whiskers shivered as every cat etiquette lecture ever given by my mother and Auntie Trouble crashed down upon my tiny brain. I lowered my eyelids slowly, twice, to show I meant no harm.  I heard him draw breath. “You’re so pretty,” he sighed. Forgiveness acquired, I surged forward, coming to stand fully out of the travel box. To make up for my gaffe, I leveled my back and lifted my tail until it stood proudly vertical to the floor. Though still in kitten fur, I was already practicing for the time that my tail would plume and increase my visual size by a third. Besides, it's surely better to announce confidence when one hasn’t any, right?</p><p>Drooping my eyelids, I bunted my head as hard as I could against the man’s jaw, dragging over it slowly, making certain to tickle his cheekbone with my right eartip. The red-haired man exhaled slowly and a small smile ghosted on his lips.</p><p>“The crew and the troopers call me Hux,” the red-haired man said, inhaling again slowly as the smile stretched from his lips to the corners of his kyber-blue eyes. “But you can call me Armie.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Steadfast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I would love to tell you that our story was nothing but cuddles and purr from that moment forward. <br/> 
Cats, however, are lazy by nature, and lying costs too much effort.</p>
<p>Armie invested time, planning and thought to ensure that his military legions were provisioned and prepared for battle at all times.  One would have expected his quarters to be prepared for my arrival.  They were not: there were no baskets, no combs, no bowls, no litter box, no toys, no cat tree and worst of all, no cat food.  Hours of bullying the ship’s recalcitrant quartermaster resulted in a slow trickle of these items into our quarters.  Armie had seized me on impulse.  More critically, he did indeed work far too many hours to keep me company.</p>
<p>The Steadfast was no Imperial leftover. The Cat Food Lady had been correct when she predicted that it would not be an appropriate environment for a domestic cat.  It was a relatively new ship, built on Kuat to meet First Order specifications.  Surfaces in the officers’ area of the ship were still smooth, leaving no grip for cat feet, regardless of how many claws I had. I would run across our floor, sliding and slipping like a young deer over ice.  Luckily, Armie was observant, resourceful and downright clever. He altered his lack of knowledge by spending many hours sifting through Terran holo-forums. This took concentrated effort, as most of these sites were written in an antiquated form of Galactic Basic instead of normal Aurebesh.  </p>
<p>Slowly but surely, thin carpets and pads appeared on the floors to keep me from skidding.  Woven mats for scratching were attached to a couple of the slanting wall surfaces. Boxes of plant-based cat litter appeared (a few days too late to prevent accidents).  The comb shortage was corrected when Armie discovered that his uniforms were swiftly being covered in a fine web of bright, pale red hair that was not his own. Wide shelves were added to the walls so I had high-up places to sleep safely and lie in wait of prey.  Material things were looking up.</p>
<p>As mentioned, some adjustments weren’t made on time.  After the first two weeks of eating synth-meat, I began to experience … distress.  Ren was called in for a short discussion and Armie called for a med droid.  Blood and urine tests showed my system couldn’t utilize vegetable protein.  My muscles were deprived of energy, the low acidity allowed hair balls to form in my guts and the alkalinity of synth-meat caused sharp, painful crystals to grow in my bladder.  Armie switched to feeding me real meat, but a second consultation with the med droid showed that meat alone did not provide enough minerals. Eventually, he discovered a pre-packaged Tooka food, designed for captive Loth cats.  More lengthy arguments with the Steadfast’s quartermaster ensued.  Good thing my Armie was dominant and excelled at oration and winning arguments.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Someone once said that it takes a village to raise a child. This is not necessarily true for a kitten living on a Resurgent-class Star Destroyer.  Armie made good on his promise to schedule Ren in for keeping me company from time to time. He would show up on late afternoons, followed by a mouse droid loaded with datapads.  On days that I wasn’t napping, I would spring onto his lap, inserting my head between his hand and his datapad.  This would always result in Ren tssking between his teeth, followed by ear rubbing.  Sometimes, he would even remove his gloves to stroke my fur. </p>
<p>In the beginning, Ren would leave the moment Army returned. As the weeks passed, it became more common for him to remain and talk with Armie. They would spend hours in discussion, touching on every subject from current events, politics, holo-movies and military strategy.  They did not always agree, though over time their discussions steadily improved their understanding of one another.  They rarely shared personal things, but one evening I learned that they both used to serve a master!  The old master had been manipulating them for years, tricking them into needless competition with one another. This was only discussed once, but the animosity between them was significantly less after that conversation.</p>
<p>On these evenings, the two of them would sit at opposite ends of the couch.  This was logical:  dominant, fertile males generally dislike being too close to one another. They would certainly not want to exchange each other’s scent.  During these sessions, I would stalk to one man, use my large front paws to kneed his thighs thoroughly, and present my head for ear and cheek rubbing.  If he did a good job of that, I would collapse in his lap to purr loudly. Man One would stroke my head and shoulders while I lay in his lap.  Once Man One had been properly purred upon and forgot to pet me, it was time to stand, shove my tail vertically as high in the air as it would go, and present my rear end for scenting. After a few moments I would walk to the man on the other end of the couch and do the same with him, secretly ensuring that the both of them carried elements of one another’s scent as well as my own.  I repeat this cycle until I fell asleep.  It was my duty to entertain the servants--the longer they communicated, the better this was for the entire fleet. And the scenting ensured that my claim on them was made. </p>
<p>One evening, I was rubbing my tail across Ren’s nose when he asked Armie if he’d found out why I kept standing with my rear end under their noses.  </p>
<p>“It’s supposed to be a compliment. She's signalling that she feels comfortable with us.  If you want to return the favor, you would make a show of sniffing her there.”<br/>
“Seriously, Hux,” sniggerd Ren. “You are the best person I know to explain proper butt sniffing.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Our quarters, though significantly improved, were still not ideal.  Space on a Star Destroyer is limited, and even a general's living space is far from generous.  I adjusted my sleep patterns for napping as much as possible during the Armie's working hours, so that I could devote awake time to claiming him and rewarding him for his service. Armie kept the food and water bowls filled, the litterbox cleaned and my fur combed. Unfortunately, he did not return the favor of remaining awake while he was in our quarters. Within hours of his return from work, he would lie down in the only bed and fall asleep. Most nights, I would lie next to his legs and purr him to sleep. Other nights, I would prowl the living space, or stare out the transparisteel window, watching the white pinpricks of light in the darkness slowly move by.  Occasionally, my loneliness would overwhelm me.  I would leap upon the bed, stomp across Armie's person, kneed my paws into his collarbones and bunt my eye sockets and cheeks upon his jaws and ears.<br/>
</p>
<p>Sometimes he would awaken en pet me a bit.  Most nights, however, he slept right through it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>For the first couple of months, my sphere of human companionship was limited to the two men who fetched me from the bosom of my home cattery. Humans, however, were not the only moving things in my life. Every time Army left our quarters, the rooms would come to life with droids. </p>
<p>There were droids that picked up Army’s clothes and took away his sheets, droids that remade his bed, droids that brought food, droids that cleaned the table and floors.  The way they busied themselves with their tasks it was obvious that they were meant to get the work done before any human noticed them doing it. As late mornings are not nap time, watching the droids zoom around our quarters gave me something to do. </p>
<p>There were a few other droids whose functions meant that they accompanied the humans.  There was a human-shaped droid with buggy eyes who would come to the rooms to remind Army of his schedule.  Army would grumble about this one after it left, saying, “You would think that Are-Ay-Seven was the one making decisions.” Ren was often followed by a droid shaped like a box, that zoomed over the floor.  He would store things like the dapatads in it, so that he wouldn't have to carry them on his person. His uniform was short on pockets. </p>
<p>Armie would tease him, saying, “I have a cat and you have a mouse droid.  Why don’t you just carry a bag?”<br/>
"Right, Hux. I'll just walk around carrying a backpack, or a messenger bag.  Really handy if I suddenly have to defend myself."<br/>
"You just know it will ruin how you look in the cape," Armie sneered.</p>
<p>Watching the droids zoom around our quarters filled a couple of my daily hours, but they weren’t quite company.  I grew bored, lonely, and under-challenged.  Something had to give.</p>
<p>
  <i>(Note to future self:  when my mother said, “Idle paws are the Devil’s workplace,” she was absolutely right.  Remember this when you fulfill your biological imperative and need to instruct your own kittens.)<i></i></i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Great Escape</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One day, about three galactic month-cycles after my arrival, I quietly followed Armie to the exit of our quarters.  I watched how the door opened and closed, and saw that there was a small pause before the door closed completely.  The next day, after Armie came for lunch, I followed him to the door again. As he exited, I seized my chance and followed him out!  Army seemed completely unaware that I had done so, and he continued walking off to the left down the hall. </p><p>I was surprised by how different the hall was compared to our living space.  The floor was still shiny but, unlike our rooms, not slippery. It seemed as if it was made to absorb the sound of footfalls. The dull, black walls slanted from the floor, only to tilt inwards towards the ceiling. White light flowed brightly from oblong lines set intermittently into the walls and the ceiling. Every few length measurements there were red lights, as well.  Sounds from throughout the ship filtered towards me.<br/>
Tail high in the air, I jaunted off to the right where Army had gone left.  </p><p>I felt the rhythm of the footfalls before I arrived at the first crossing on the hall from our quarters.  A group of the humanoids dressed in the shiny white suits stomped past, letting half their feet hit the floor at the same time.  I realized that I had felt these vibrations a few times before. Perhaps a group of them occasionally pass the entrance to our quarters?  Much to my surprise, not a one of them was aware of my presence in the hall!  It appeared that the humanoids in the white suits don’t look sideways as they stomp together through the halls.  I swiftly came to the conclusion that, without the sound absorption in the floor, their matching footfalls would have been the only thing heard on the ship. It took me a few moments until I could filter the rhythmic the sound of these footfalls and separate them from the other sounds assaulting my ears. There was familiar the drone of the ship’s engines, the peeping wheels of a food delivery droid, and behind me, came suddenly the zoom and soft honking of a mouse droid.  If the mouse droid messaged my presence, my adventure would end before it began. So, I shot out from the intersection and again went right where the white suits had gone left.  </p><p>Such a nice feeling to set all my muscles into a good run!  After a passing three more intersections, I felt myself running out of breath and slowed down. </p><p>The hall ended abruptly in an area with doors that had lights above them. Since I could hear a machine running behind the doors, I decided to stand next to the wall and observe.  It didn’t take long before one of the doors opened and a young, female officer exited with her nose in a datapad.  Seizing my chance, I hopped into the tiny room that she had left.  The door closed behind me and I turned around in the space. Armie has stepped into one of these while he had me in my carrier when I arrived.  Without warning, I felt the floor push under my feet.  I was going up. After a short while, the doors opened and without looking first, I exited, racing past a couple of older, male officers. </p><p>“Did you see that?” asked the taller, greying officer.<br/>
“Sorry, sir. See what?” replied the younger, portlier one.<br/>
“I didn’t drink that much at lunch, did I?  I could swear I just saw a small, orange Loth cat,” I heard the older one reply.  I had already raced into the adjoining hallway before the junior officer had a chance to see me or not. </p><p>By this time, my tail was starting to hang behind me. As exciting as it was to see the great outdoors, I was missing naptime and my energy was flagging.  Rhythmic thumping in the floor warned me to hide next to the wall, and again, a group of white suits stomped past at the intersection right in front of me.  This was the largest group of them I’d seen so far. </p><p>The halls here were wider, not as shiny as near our quarters and slightly less clean.  There were scuffs in the floor, the occasional scrape in the wall and simply said, all surfaces looked well used. An open doorway presented itself and, curious, I walked in. This room was a great hall, brightly lit, with a high ceiling. Rows and rows of tables with benches stood in lines. The air thronged with heavy smells of the sorts of food humans eat:  cooked vegetables and that disgusting, fake vegetable synth-meat that Army used to feed me. I discovered I was hungry but the smell made my stomach knell. At the other end of the giant space, I could see kitchen droids zooming about, carrying large, heavy metal trays of the smelly stuff.  This was not a place for me. </p><p>As I turned to leave, an entire group of the white suits appeared.  For the first time, I saw them without their head coverings.  They came in all different sorts of humanoid skin colors and hair styles, and were male as well as female. For once, they were not walking in sync, but were simply ambling into the room, chatting and joking with one another.  It seemed nearly an accident that one of them spotted me.</p><p>“Maker, look at the that! What’s a Tooka doing in here!” I heard a man’s voice exclaim.<br/>
“That’s not a Tooka, it’s a Loth cat,” said a female voice.  
"I dunno," said a third voice. "Never seen een Tooka or a Loth cat with feet like that.  And that color is just...weird."  Suddenly, every white suit in the room wanted to capture me.  The chase was on.</p><p>Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka told me a couple of weeks later about his experience calling Ren and Armie to the scene.  When the discovery of an unusual creature was announced on the central com, he recognized my description and went personally to the bridge to break the news. He said it was lucky that both General Hux and the Supreme Leader happened to be there, talking to one another quietly as he approached.  </p><p>“Sirs?” he began nervously, though not in fear (Mitaka says, that before ascending to his role as Supreme Leader, that Ren was violently unpredictable).  “An unusual, Terran feline has been found in the Storm Trooper mess hall on the starboard side of Deck IV.  I heard the description and thought that you might know something about the creature.”</p><p>Hux’ face pinched as he was left momentarily wordless. “Lieutenant, can you describe the appearance of this creature?  Say, what color is it?” replied the Supreme Leader smoothly.<br/>
“It appears to be almost exactly the same color as your hair, General Hux,” answered Mitaka, swallowing anxiously. </p><p>Having had a moment to recover, Hux came to life and said, “Thank you, Mitaka.  Come, Ren, we will go to Deck IV and deliver her back to my quarters.” And without a single bit of fuss, Ren left the deck with him.</p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, the white suits had me trapped in the large hall.  They kept trying to corner me against one of the walls.  But I was not stupid enough to go to the smooth walls to be captured so easily. I rushed from under one table to under another, keeping to the center so that no one leaning over a bench could grab me. Some of the white suits lost interest, going to the back of the hall for food. I avoided the tables where they sat with their trays.  </p><p>As the minutes ticked by, a few of the white suits seemed to perceive my reluctance to be caught as a challenge to their hunting prowess.  Their determination to catch me, combined with the strong lighting in the hall (our quarters were quite dark and only had light where Armie’s weak human eyes needed it), were causing my anxiety in the strange situation to border on panic. I was exposed, there was too much light, and I was surrounded by larger predators than me.  Singularly, each these things signaled danger.  In combination, they meant deadly threat. </p><p>Suddenly, I sensed cool darkness enter the hall. I couldn’t see it yet, but relief flooded me. From under the table, I spied Armie’s familiar boots, and next to them, the legs and cape of Ren. And oh, there was the cover of darkness and a safe place to hide!  A quick check from side to side assured me that the white suits were keeping their distance from my personal humans.  I dashed from under the table to the space between Ren’s boots and cape.  Though Army and Ren hadn’t seen me yet, a white suit’s feet begin to approach. </p><p>“Sirs,” I heard a voice say, and my panic returned.  Skewering my claws into the tree-like pant leg, I shimmied and climbed my way up as I used to climb trees in our garden at home.  I heard Ren’s hissing intake of breath, and from in front of Ren, Armie’s voice asking, “Where did she go?  Ren, why are you looking so strange.  What are you…?”</p><p>“She’s climbed up under my cape,” I heard Ren’s voice rumble through my paws.  I had secured myself to firmly onto his tunic behind his right shoulder.  This was a good moment to have 8 claws more than an average cat. </p><p>“Maker, Ren, you look like a hunchback.” Armie’s voice sounded half like a snigger. “Kriff,” I heard him mutter softly, “these troopers mustn’t see me laughing.”</p><p>“Do you think she’ll stay there safely until we get back to your quarters, or do we have to find another way to secure her?” I heard Ren ask. </p><p>Secure me?  No, not doing that.  There was a small space between the edge of the cape and the back of Ren’s neck.  I thrust my nose into the space, wiggling my head back and forth until my head was free. I peeked out from the space between Ren’s neck and hair.  There he was!  I looked happily into the face of my Armie. I even made accidental eye contact, but was too excited to blink an apology.  From the next table, I saw the arms of a couple of white suits raise and point at the spectacle of their Supreme Leader.  I suppose he doesn’t often have a cat’s head sticking out of his neck.  I moved a bit, unsure if I should stay safely under Ren’s cape or flee. Then I realized that I was stuck and began to struggle.  </p><p>“Grab her, Hux, before she gets away.”   Armie moved to behind Ren and his hands grasped me through the fabric of the cape.</p><p>“What’s our best strategy here?” I heard Armie ask.<br/>
“I could put her in Force sleep, but I don’t know how much Force to use.  If I use too much, she might never wake up, too little and she could get scared again and flee.  Freezing her is an option, but she will probably be angry at me for a while afterwards. At least, that seems to be how that works with females.”<br/>
“Freeze her, then,” said Armie, and instantly, my body seized upon itself.  The only thing I could do was breathe. Ren unfastened the front of his cloak while Armie proceeded to remove my claws from the back of Ren’s tunic.  Armie nestled me as gently into his arms as my stone stiff body allowed. “She’s secure. Let’s go. “</p><p>Armie swiveled his head with raptor-like speed towards the white suits.  “Go back to your meal,” he ordered. He and Ren began to walk to the exit.  “Move along, nothing to see here,” I heard Ren mutter under his breath. </p><p> </p><p>I would like to be polite about my feelings regarding the man in the cape at this moment.  But by the time we got back to our quarters, I was not happy with Ren.  No male, ever, should think he can be the boss of me!  </p><p>Armie lay his hand on the sensor by our door and the three of us passed through the hallway. “You can unfreeze her now,” said Armie, as he bent over with me toward the floor.  Freedom shot through me like a bolt of lightning.  The moment I could control my limbs I fled into the bedroom as fast as I could go, screeching as I ran.  The last thing those two men saw of me for a while was my tail, with every hair on it standing on end. </p><p>Hiding under the bed did me some good.  My heart rate slowed and my good home sense of familiarity returned, as well as that empty-bellied sensation that comes from being a hungry, growing creature.  All the while, I could hear voices from the living area, as the two men engaged in a lengthy discussion about military strategy.  Finally, I slunk out of the bedroom to the kitchen area, in search of the food bowl.  To my great surprise, Armie had left it empty.  This left me no choice but to demand my rights.</p><p>After making certain there was nothing moving in the area that could be a threat or need killing, I approached the couch. Each of them was sitting at his opposite end, being together as far apart as possible.   I made swift work of rubbing my head and shoulders on Army’s lower legs, holding my tail up to display maximum friendliness.  Surely, Armie would get the message. </p><p>“See, Ren? She already loves me again,” he said.<br/>
“Maaaaauw,” I interrupted, loudly.  Under normal circumstances, I would never resort to a common, moggy meow.  But Armie was behaving like an ignoramus.<br/>
I felt a wave of darkness touch lightly over me and made direct eye contact with Ren.  I growled, for he had no business! “She’s hungry, Hux,” I heard him say.<br/>
“What do you?  Oh, right, you…”<br/>
“Hard to miss. It’s like, projecting off of her,” Ren said. </p><p>And so it was, that Army filled my bowl with delicious, juicy food made from real meat (not that veg-synth excrescence), while Ren stood with his arms crossed over his chest, grumbling about the smell. I found it in my heart to forgive them both. </p><p>
  <i>(Note to future self: make certain before any escape attempts that the place you wind up is actually better than the place you leave.  Freedom does not appear to be more worthwhile than a good life.) </i>
</p><p>Home again, finally.  After a good nap, it struck me.  It seemed so natural to me that the man in the cape had that aura of dark living force around him, while Army did not.  After all, their natures were quite dissimilar.  But I had come into contact with hundreds of humanoids today, and not one of them had an aura like Ren.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Cat Food Lady says that the cattery has a Tumblr page, in case you want to know what my siblings and I look like:</p><p>    https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/riannalauda</p><p>You will need to copy and paste this, as I know nothing about how to work with html. My pedigreed name is Lauda PP You Say.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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